Hanging On
by starryclimes
Summary: Arthur has lost the will to live, and after a long walk he finds the perfect place to end it. He never expected to be found by the police, or the police negiotator to have the bluest eyes he has ever seen. Alfred, on the other hand, just wants to help. Arthur has two choices, what will he do? USUK, mentions of FRUK, for LJ Secret Santa.


A/N: To Chibitalex, for LJ usxuk communities 2013 Secret Santa

Prompt was: A fic with Arthur completely baring himself for Alfred. Emotionally, sexually, however you'd like to interpret it-I sorta did both

Warnings: Slight swearing, suicide attempt

* * *

Hanging On

The wind picked up, flattening him against the cold concrete he was clinging to. Arthur could feel the grain of the small pebbles that made up the concrete digging into his cheek.

How long had it been since he had been up here? He thought of Francis' face, turned and twisted with anger, that early morning. He willed his fingers to pry off the edge he clung to; they didn't move, and he was still afloat with the horrible words that he had heard that morning. The problem was, it wasn't Francis' fault, every accusation, word, and claim against him, all of them had been true.

He heard the police sirens, and at first he thought someone had gotten in an accident. During his long walk here he had thought about the bridge over the major highway for a brief five minutes, but that was one of reasons why he had went with this one. Arthur could hear the water lapping far, far below, and there was no traffic underneath, no one else to traumatize, no one else to bother. Just him, and the far away water, soon to be so close. He imagined his body hitting it, feeling his bones breaking. It would be better this way.

The voice startled him. "Hey, hey, buddy." Shit, they had found him. He tried to get his hands to let go, the wind then picked up again, and this time pulled him away from the pillar. There was a brief blur of grey blue water with choppy waves below, the suddenly slipperiness of the concrete, his body smacking back into the pillar, and his breath gasping. "Shit, that was close." The voice seemed worried.

More voices were above him, faint and urgent. _Damn it Arthur_, he thought to himself. _Why do you always have to be a nuisance?_

"Hey." The voice came back above him, and it was pleasant, like those commercials, or the people who did the best when leaving a voicemail. "Hey, my name's Alfred. What's your name?"

Arthur just stared into the pillars, followed the tiny specks of sands forever upward, until he saw the face leaning over the railing, blue eyes and a black hat. Handsome, like a movie star, a calm face. He was doomed. "Don't." He choked out, the first words he had said since the morning fight, "Don't. You'll fall."

He stared back at the pillar and closed his eyes. The water was down below. Lapping under his feet. If only he could just let go. _Let go. Let go. Let go._ He chanted in his head.

"Don't worry about me." The cheerful voice broke into his mantra. "Hey, I'm Alfred. You wanna talk about this?"

Talk about it? Arthur's heart seemed cold. "Go away, Alfred," he croaked out.

"Nah, I'm fine." The voice was so pleasant, so pleasant and coaxing, Arthur wanted to spill every facet of his life. "I want to know if I can get you anything. I also will listen to whatever you want to say…"

Arthur felt tears squeeze out from under his eyelids. _Tell him your name, and all is lost_, the dark monster that had taken over his life said. _Just let go_.

He heard shuffling above. Looking up with only his eyes, he saw the man climbing over the railing. "Stop, Alfred. Just stop." He murmured.

Somehow the man heard him, and Arthur could see him inching towards him. "Hey, buddy, I can help you up. You want to come up here? I've got a brother named Matt, a cat named Hero, and I think you can come up here. You want to talk about something? I'm here."

"What are you? A God-damned therapist?" The words growled out of Arthur, from who-knows-where.

"Nah. Just a guy. You want something?"

"I want you. Alfred. To go away." The wind punctuated his last words, tugging at him. An internal wail unheard seemed to come from somewhere in Arthur's heart.

"I'm Arthur," said Arthur to the pillar, his face pushed to it, his too large eyebrows pushed into the coldness, the eyebrows his brothers mocked and Francis had mocked. They all hated him. Hated him for good reason. _Good riddance_, the voice said.

"Nice to meet you, Arthur," said the pleasant voice from above. "I am so happy you told me your name, Arthur. What do you want to talk about, Arthur?"

"For fuck's sake! That's my name, don't wear it out!" His outburst ricocheted from the pillar all around him, hurting his own ears. They said the first thing that happened if you were high enough when you jumped was that your eardrums would burst. At the same time, he like how his name sounded with that American accent, he could feel blush rush up his cheeks at the realization.

"Ok." Alfred said. He was silent. Arthur could hear a faint buzzing and he guessed that he was listening to a headset.

"No one else," Arthur demanded, feeling even more ridiculous. "No one else. They go."

The buzzing stopped, and Arthur heard a "Here you go," as Alfred tossed the headset up to someone over the railing the bridge. "Ok. Now it's just us."

"Please, Alfred. Let me die in peace." There was a plea in Arthur's voice that surprised himself. _That's what you get moron, for not just jumping when no one was around_. "Fuck," Arthur said, feeling tears coming to his eyes.

Alfred said nothing. Maybe he had gone up. Arthur looked up feeling the burn from the jagged edge of the cement. No, the man was sitting there. Gloved hand hanging off the mesh of the chain link fence, and his feet resting on the first tier of cement. Blue eyes were staring out from glasses to the landscape behind Arthur. _Enjoying the view_, Arthur thought maliciously.

"You can talk." Arthur gave permission. He had no idea where that came from.

"I was thinking."

"Shocking," Arthur interjected.

"Something made you climb out here, unless you were just enjoying the view and are a photographer and dropping your camera, and then you climbed out to save it, but it fell anyway, and now you are stuck."

Arthur thought it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. "Believe it or not, moron," he gritted out, "I was not taking pictures."

Blue eyes met green. _Why did his eyes have to be so blue_, wailed the internal voice. Arthur's heart was suddenly beating too fast. Francis, his internal chiding took over, this is what he was talking about. Being unfaithful. Being a bastard. Quick to move on. Arthur closed his eyes.

Alfred just said, "What can I get you, Arthur? I can do anything you ask. We can go to a diner, and you tell me about what's going on. Okay?"

No. Not okay. Arthur felt the hot prick of tears start up again. "Get me Francis." He felt ashamed. He had never really talked about his feeling with anyone. Not even Francis. One of many accusations that caused him to be out here. _That's right_! He suddenly realized. He needed to let go and fall backwards. The wind was so strong it might make him hit the pillar first. It would hurt, but it would be over in a couple seconds.

He looked down. And promptly thought he would throw up. His hands were slick with sweat, and his vertigo was making it hard to figure out which way was what.

"Okay. Francis. Who's this Francis guy? Give me his number and I'll call him. We'll all talk together."

"Hahaha." The maniacal laughter that erupted from his mouth was bitter and wild. "He won't come here. Or if he did he would laugh."

Alfred was quiet. He didn't berate Arthur or tell him he was right. _I'm right, goddamn it_, he thought as he felt snot suddenly drip from his nose. He couldn't move his hands to wipe it.

"Arthur." The voice was soothing. Quieting. A voice that made him seem suddenly a child and a mother was cooing over one of his bruises. "Arthur. Tell me about Francis."

Arthur just buried his face away from the man who was standing on the tier above. It had to be tiring_. If it made Alfred leave_, Arthur thought, _then he could jump in peace_.

_That's it. Tell him, then you can let go._

"He's m-m-my git of a boyfriend." There was a sob. It felt like needles in his throat and someone was poking his eyes. "I-I-I mean my ex—" He couldn't finish.

He looked up, utterly humiliated, at Alfred. Strange, there seemed to be a flash of recognition deep in those blue eyes.

"You aren't together?" Alfred gently asked.

"N-n-no. We f-f-f-fought." Arthur didn't want to think of all the poisonous words that had spilled out of his mouth. "Because I'm a cruel bastard…"

Alfred didn't confirm Arthur's sentence. He just waited…

"He wouldn't care if I jumped…"

Alfred just said softly, "What about your family Arthur? They'd care."

The cement was so cold. The wind picking up now made his teeth chatter, and eyes tear from the sheer. _Let go, Arthur_, the voice was saying…but a small part of him countered. It was nice. Gut wrenching humiliating, sheer terrifying, to tell these things to Alfred. He hadn't judged once, not even in his eyes.

"My brot-therss…No. Th-the-y be pleased. Did terr-rr-ible things to the-em." So true. So worthless. Such a waste of space.

Alfred just said sincerely, "I'm sorry, Arthur. I'll tell you though, I'd be sad if you jumped. I'd care."

"Why?" It came out as a wail, and the deepest part of Arthur broke, pride feeling beyond wounded, utterly bared. "Y-y-you don't even know me…"

"Well, I know that you are British…seem like a guy who cares about people…loves cats…you got cat hair all over your pants…and you don't mind telling me things…and I like talking to you."

Arthur listened, mortified in his head as after each reason he internally snarked back, "_English…I brushed those three times! I'm only doing it to get you to go away…and no you don't, it's your job_."

"Why do you do this, Alfred?" He chattered out, "Why do you talk to the idiots who want to jump? You should do better things." His eyes were staring at the bold POLICE stamped on Alfred's jacket.

"I like to talk to people. I want to make sure they get what they want, before they do something they can't come back from," the man said, pleasantly, his words washing over Arthur. "I want to talk to you more, Arthur. Talk about things that maybe you need to talk about. Come up here, and we'll get coffee and chat. There's a little diner across this bridge. I'll pull you up and we'll talk more."

"No!" Arthur sounded like a little child. "Go away."

"Arthur." The man just smiled, "I'm not going away. What can I get you?"

"Get away so I can jump. Don't want anybody watching me." There was a plea in there—_don't listen to me._

"Give me your hand, Arthur," Alfred just said. He was holding it towards Arthur. The wind picked up and pushed Arthur against the cold pillar with a howl.

"Ugh," Arthur thought. Francis would never let him live this down. But Francis wasn't talking to him anymore. He had seen the deep despair and hurt in Francis with that last physical and verbal blow.

Eyes wide, tears dripping down the sides of his cheeks. Snot dripping down his nose, and his cat was at Michelle's. It was okay. He could just…

"Your hand…" It was Alfred's voice, calm, insistent.

"Can't…" It came weakly out, and was picked up and flung by the wind.

"Arthur, give me your hand."

Something snapped. Fear suddenly took over. "Can't…"

There was a loud sound that made Arthur startle, his feet slipped a bit, only his toes were on the slight ledge…it was a helicopter, and it sounded so close to him that he panicked.

He saw Alfred let go of the bridge, standing on feet without hanging on and make a crossing motion to the helicopter behind Arthur. "Get the media out of here!" He yelled to the people above the bridge.

"Alfred?" Arthur asked. He was so afraid now. He was going to fall. Somehow, maybe, that diner first. Then he could do this again. Maybe when Alfred wasn't around.

"Arthur," Alfred yelled over the chopper, which now was going away. "Arthur, hang on." He inched down. "Don't look down. Think positive thoughts, the most positive thing you can thing of. Your favorite color. Your cat…" Alfred's hypnotizing voice was saying, "Just reach out to your left. Yes, that's it…"

Arthur unpried the fingers on his left hand. How long they had been clinging; it hurt to straighten them. He lifted his hand blindly, his face smashed into the pillar. He felt it connect with a warm gloved hand. "Okay…now just slowly inch to your left…pretend you are just inching against a wall in a wide hallway. Drag your right hand against the cement…"

Arthur tried to pretend. Tried to pretend he was just inching against a wall. Felt the fabric of his pants drag against the rough cement. He wobbled. His shoes skidded, but now the hands were joined by others. It was no longer just Alfred. Strong arms pulled him up, up, and he just sat against the top of the bridges' cement wall. A blanket was tossed around his shoulders.

Shamed. He looked up to see Alfred bent on his knees, eye level with Arthur. "Hi Arthur…you ready to get some coffee?"

Arthur never knew why he did what he did, but he reached his cold hand out to touch Alfred's red cheek. "Sheesh. You are freezing." He turned and yelled at the paramedics who were coming to check out Arthur.

There was paperwork. And apologies, which they just ignored. Hospital, which he went to. Seventy-two hour suicide watch. And Alfred had disappeared. It was his job, Arthur, Arthur chided himself throughout the silly meditation exercises he and his group did. As he was checking out though, thinking of maybe just driving off into the wrong side of the road, there was Alfred, standing inside the door. "Hey, they wouldn't let me do what I promised right away. So here I am. Hi, Arthur."

* * *

It had been hours and years of therapy. It was a daily fight against the depression and lack of understanding his self-worth. It was that diner filled with multiple cups of crappy tea where Arthur talked about everything and anything, and listened to Alfred as he told him about his brother and his cat, how he loved to be in the police force, and how Arthur had the greenest eyes he had ever seen.

The man woke up next to him, skin brushing his own, strong arms reaching around him. "Hey, handsome."

Arthur blushed. "Idiot," he huffed, and then turned around immediately repentant, "I don't mean it, darling boy."

Alfred just laughed, that wide smile and beautiful blue eyes slightly unfocused staring at him with mirth. "You know, it's not every day I fall in love with one of the people I've helped."

"It's totally unprofessional," Arthur snorted. He often thought about this.

"But you were so hot." The young man kissed Arthur's shoulder.

"I decline to mention anything." Those blue eyes, Arthur thought as he returned the morning breath filled kiss. "Hmm…" He tenderly traced Alfred's cheek. "How I love you. I'm glad I didn't jump that morning." He shivered slightly. He had said it. There it was. And he meant it so seriously.

Alfred's eyes were dark. "So am I. I almost thought I had lost you for a moment." He kissed Arthur's temple. "But now, now you have an appointment, and yoga."

Arthur blushed…He really thought the therapy program had its ridiculous points…

"And I, I am going to convince you not to be a good patient, and stay here with me…and try out one of those yoga poses…" Thin, beautiful eyebrows waggled at him.

"Naked? With you?" Arthur scoffed. He grinned mischievously, "Sounds marvelous, darling."

He laughed as Alfred grabbed him and wrestled him under the blankets. He was happy…

It hit him as Alfred kissed him all over. Happy. So happy. He felt broken again, but in a different way. It was as terrifying as jumping off that bridge, but now he knew that there was someone always hanging on to him. Alfred just grinned as Arthur gasped in delight.


End file.
